about

I've got the limited internet syndrome. It only took five weeks for me to ease myself off the grid:) So...writing here every day is so completely not possible. Here are the other weird things I do with my time.

-Read books obsessively because library cards!

-Watch every episode of season two of Outlander

-Grow in my relationships, which I would still likely be doing with wifi, but somehow the lack thereof squeezes the growth out of me like toothpaste

-Drink. Wine.

-Think, with a kind of space I'm not used to having for thinking, and desiring a lot more of that space

-Gain independence inside of a very confined significant other situation

-Learn that I have a strong tendency to do what I should, and the nuances of that are consistently confounding as I follow them deeper into my psyche

-Deciding to do what I want, to refine and define my desires, and allow them to be as they are, just because

-Become so much more accepting of the fact that my life path has been about learning things more than it's been about material success

-Deciding I'm allowed to want children, not as a vague future desire, but as something tangible that I can schedule on the calendar

-Determining to have some sort of career, and feeling the loss of still being adrift at almost forty

-Reaffirming my love for growing organic food more than ever, but preparing it for eating is still the best, and I still want to cook for other people

-Rolling the idea of spending the next year writing and having babies around in my head

-Understanding that I am never satisfied and I long to be satisfied

-The understanding that anything anyone has ever told me about myself is not true, period. I decide what is true based on wisdom I need to trust

-Deciding that I have something to teach and share and that I want to scale up on that sharing as big as I can

-Understanding that community and opportunity are the most important things to me right now

-Dreaming of taking a holiday to a far off place, all by myself

forgetting

For the last three days, I completely forgot about this project. So much for linear time, sanity, or any sort of thing that would remind me that I had this intention.


So because I find myself much more wordless and hopeless than I approve of, here's something from someone whose words speak to what I'm going through. Someday, I hold space for the possibility that I will find my own.

*********************************************************************************

Many are being firmly planted in their "new" realities... The work all of these years ... we are all emerging to step into even more of a role of service.... and while many are not yet aware of what everything is... it evolves and arrives as we do....

Things HAVE TO CHANGE... It's the point, and the purpose we all did this journey, why we all chose to incarnate here into the beyond challenging human experience that we once called life.... at times, it was beyond amazing, awesome... then many of our Universes said "It's time to wake up and your whole life/reality is going to be dismantled, torn down and you have to start over... from scratch... and THIS TIME you have to GET IT"....

All along the way, AS we emerge on NEW Earth, we can appreciate it all and understand it all and even more... forget it all, other than an awareness that our human experience even occurred... Just a faded illusion, a memory that we cannot hardly even remember... for we did not come here to hold onto all of that... we came here to transcend all of that to EXPERIENCE a whole magical reality of awesomeness that we could not even comprehend existed.

The more unified we are, the less the separation of time exists, the less time exists, the less human memories there are.... New memories (Remembering) is of all of our other existences, not off in another time, but here.... now....

These frequencies activate the energy of those aspects for us to actually experience again... There are no words to explain this part of the process... beyond words... subtle, profound... this changes everything.... for us....

EVERY ONE OF US have to awaken, fully... in our way, that we chose....

Every moment spent pointing the finger, not accepting it, not embracing it, not letting go of those old mindsets, tying to avoid it, resist it or hide... is another moment that each hold themselves to the old matrix IN THEIR MINDS.....

The gridwork, structure, systems... all within the physical body, all have to be detoxed, de-densified, dismantled.... The entire physical body has to go through an intense transformation that does not conform to any human perceptions... the REALITY of it all simply blows the mind....

YOUR NEW PHYSICAL REALITY..... and it IS a physical reality.... as we go through a ridiculous amount of sleep, foggy groggy waking states as the veils of amnesia dissolve inside of us, we wake up and literally vibrate in & out of a multitude of other dimensional realities....

We float, we fly, we soar.... we acclimate to higher frequencies, we become visible and invisible simultaneously, because we are literally vibrating in & out of different dimensions.....

Our cellular structure de-materializing and re-materializing constantly. We have to pull away and shut down all along the way, so that we can upgrade and hold more physical light.... Photonic light weakens the physical body systems until the current upgrade process is complete.... Then we go through it, continually... as we become PURE SOURCE LIGHT ENERGY here.

The difference is in our molecular structures. The more light we hold, the more our physical matter changes form (constantly), the more we can endure, the more we can process, the more we can produce...

Each's entire existence changes.... nothing is as it was.... it's more awesome, more amazing, more magical.... Yet, every one of us have to let go of everything of unconsciousness to achieve this for ourselves and all others....

Your role here is important. You have much to offer, be, do... It starts with your presence, you opening up and loving, respecting, honoring you.... Focusing on YOUR LIGHT and embodiment process too. Everything changes for you, all comes into alignment, gets easier... for you.... YOU have to maintain alignment.... see what's not pure, authentic, true for you.... you have to honor your feelings, listen to them, appreciate them, releasing them... FEEL fully again.....

No more suppression, hiding, avoiding, pretending.....

You will desire more... you will desire love, respect, honor, integrity, purity, connection.... for your SOUL cannot function any other way. Your spirit must be fed to be vibrant, happy and alive. Your Higher Selves must live INSIDE your body.... for you to exist on NEW Earth. Your existence will totally change.....

Human doesn't like change.... get used to it, embrace it and understand that every moment things will change... according to the frequencies present... and when you are present & in-tune... you'll see and understand what you could not before.....

REMEMBER.......... through your heart and the eyes of your soul. ♥

I love you. ∞

Lisa Transcendence Brown ☼
Ancient Elder & Guardian of NEW Earth, Teacher/Coach/Guide, Author, Transformational Speaker, Master of all things Energy ♦
http://www.awakeningtoremembering.com

pain

I believe I can mend.

writing exercise

Long ago there was a penny for your thoughts. This was a very good deal. It was two cents for a nail, six for a bobbin, seven for a ball of twine, nine and a half (a half!), for a soda from the tall Mr. Ives, ten for a bucket, twelve for a small basket of fries, fourteen for a good bullfrog, fifteen for a bushel of anything but peaches (which were twenty-two), seventeen cents to call China for one second, eighteen to sing a song of sixpence due to inflation, twenty to make due on any given Sunday, twenty-one for a fruitcake, twenty-three for the Easter bunny, twenty-four to catch a tiger by its tail, twenty-five for a quarter, twenty-seven for a good life lesson, twenty-eight for a stern reprimand, thirty cents for a loaf and a fish, thirty-one for a chicken, thirty-three for a circus tent, thirty-five for a shave and a haircut, thirty-six for a sparkler and a slice of apple pie, thirty-eight for a yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum, forty for your birthday, forty-one for a good pair of boots, forty-three for your brown hair to be blonde, forty-five for an honorable mention, forty-six to pick up sticks for the neighbors, forty-eight for a tank of gas, forty-nine for its weight in gold, fifty for two quarters, fifty-one for two loaves and a bigger fish, fifty-three for your sweetheart to spend on treats, fifty-four in the hand is fifty-four in the bush, fifty-six for the thanksgiving turkey, fifty-seven for a wooly shuffle, fifty-nine for a trip to the altar, sixty for those who know better, sixty-two for tar and feathers, sixty-three for an evening cruise around the harbor, sixty-four for a double box of a year-long supply of something. sixty-six for your discretion in the matter, sixty-eight for an icebox, sixty-nine for new double-hung windows, seventy for four dozen bagels, seventy-one for some pie in the sky, seventy-two for a basket case of anything (except a fruit basket which was too much for you), seventy-three for a champagne toast, seventy-five for three quarters, seventy-seven for a large quartz crystal, seventy-eight for a new song just for you, eighty to light the way, eighty-two cents for a bee in your bonnet, eighty-three for the correct time, eighty-five for a trip to the sea on a boat with me, eighty-six for dueling banjos, eighty-eight to get into the museum after hours, ninety to mail a crate to Maine, ninety-one to mill around aimlessly, ninety-three to share the spoils, ninety-four for a permit for anything, ninety-five for the band to play your song, ninety-six for a gown made of rabbit dreams and clouds, ninety-eight for a ride on the train, ninety-nine for a ship of fools, and one hundred for four quarters but you knew that.

I now hate this. May 25, 2013

a story for children

Long ago there was a fantastic adventure. It was a little bit hidden and a little bit shy but it was there nonetheless. It was like a seed, which seems like nothing sometimes when you look at it, a little thing with no visible parts, nothing to indicate by its unassuming size. And yet. And yet...

In the same way, under the right conditions, regardless of circumstances, the fantastic adventure with sprout from you. It will burst forth or it will gently unfold its first tendril. It will race toward fulfillment of its own sunshiney potential, our it will creep, in fits and starts, slowly forward in the dark.

This fantastic adventure is the seedling of your soul, no one has one like it, but everyone has one. You came here to sprout, to grow your own shape and color and to share it as freely as that tree or that flower or that tomato vine. Nothing can stop it. You can think it's impossible, but that's only a delay. Once you taste the feeling of it, then the fantastic adventure is unstoppable.

Do you want to try now? To start somewhere, which is anywhere, which is right here? Do you want to put your bare feet onto the ground in the grass or in the sand or in the mud? Go ahead! Can you feel little sprouts growing? They feel like tickles and giggles and bird feathers and rain. It begins here, noticing this. And each time you sprout a new leaf, branch, or root, you will know that it's true by the bubbles of joy that pop and fizz in your heart, in your chest. 

And you can share these fizzy pops of love with your mom and your dad and your family and your friends, with people you meet in the park out the store, with your pets and the birds and the animals, with the forest and the city and the ocean and the shore. You can share them when it's quiet out when it's very loud, even when you are crying or when you don't want to make a sound. 

Most of all you can share with yourself everything that comes up from inside as you grow, there's space for it all even if you feel slow.

And if ever the wind in your branches makes you feel scared, you can call to the magic of each little seed that grows without worry, fearless and free.

Every small seedling in the forest or garden gets rained on and windblown and sometimes downtrodden.

Still each little seedling looks to the sun and pushes its roots deeper into the earth that it came from. Just like the sun feels nice on your skin and the cool mud between your toes tickles, so the sprout that you are on this fantastic adventure grows right from your heart, can you feel it? Follow that, follow that, oh, where will we go next?

June 13, 2013

providence

That is the name of an exquisitely beautiful farm I visited tonight, that has permanently inspired me. Also, that is the name if the city I was born in. 

So, that is my theme this weekend.

noticing

Today I notice my strength. I can separate a great work situation from a miserable living situation. I can even separate the wonderful living from the miserable living, and then again the sublime from the wonderful. I notice my strength, to remain with a commitment even as other commitments break apart around me. I can separate the commitments I want to keep from the ones to let go. Does it always take ill treatment to remember that we deserve more because we are capable of giving more? It isn't easy to listen to an inner guidance that so often leaves me solitary, because my heart speaks of nurturing through others, it speaks of love. Today I notice my strength. I'll get through and get by, and come September, I will never have been freer. Help me to dream bigger than I have. Tell me your pains and your inspirations. The really good words are failing me tonight, and I'm only good for noticing.

weavers

Long ago there was a story so great and huge and wonderful that it almost couldn't be written. It was a story that belonged to many people, that could belong to everyone. It was a web, with parts coming from here and some from there. Some smelled of leather, some of rose, some of oil, some of salt. Some parts came from different times, many years ago or many years from now. Each was a thread and each storyteller had so many ways that the thread could be lost or unravel. These storytellers mostly just lived their lives, not really knowing that there were so many others, not knowing exactly who out there had the words just before or after their own. But they knew something in the dusty bits of salt, rose, oil, and leather that wove in and out of their conscious notice. And over eons this web wrote a story so great and huge and wonderful that it almost can't be read. It will break your eyes, it will take your language. It will melt your heart. 

Do you see this as a warning or an invitation?

Add to it then, and be careful. Each electromagnetic beat of your heart is a sound that copies no other sound. Climb up and go. The long bones of your body want to show you why you're here. Make this body work for its meals and record the sounds of each day, put them together with the one before, or keep them separate and guard them. It doesn't matter. You will start to hear, you'll keep your eyes. Your truth sits at the center of a fire, cool and still. Your sacred part of the story has been here, written in your long bones, left white and bare by the fire of your life. Look down and read yourself, what's left of you after the offering has been made of embodiment.The threads of this story come together, great and huge and wonderful, woven from the still center of the storyteller's eyes. 

Can you read what I've woven?

May 27, 2013

feelings

Here I am with a little battery life left. There's a moth flying about while I try to warm up beneath the down comforter I'm so glad I insisted on traveling with. I just got off the phone with my mother, who guided my own hands into fixing a finger I jammed two weeks ago with a weeding tool. I managed to avoid being chased by a rooster today, but only because I'm driving my car two hundred feet to the barn where I keep my food to avoid having to deal with the beast. Although my frustration at having to do that is starting to make running him off with a rake whenever he looks at me seem more appealing. The air here is clean and the wind is fierce and this isn't any kind of story about anything today. Except that I'm keeping myself writing, even with no electricity, reception, or sanity. I had it come to me today from two different sources that we only know what we feel because we think we do. It went something like this...the buzz of human life is so full of lively energy that being out in a place of nature can feel heavy in comparison and that heaviness can feel depressed. And this...there is a feeling after deep meditation that can be called depressed, and it's a fine feeling, it just happens to contrast with that human collective buzz. See, I've been deciding that I really enjoy that slow, heavy feeling of land without people. And I'm imagining that the thing we call peace might be closer to the thing we call depression than we commonly give it credit for. And that there might be something marvelous there (Please see the writings of Matt Licata for a very poetic rendering of my own wonky night-thoughts).This land is green and, if I lie on it, it will envelop me entirely. I can feel gravity more here, but it's not gravity, it's something else. I was laughing with my mom about my newfound way of using a few sips of wine as medicine, since I've been here, since all things went into a kind of flux that I have to escape from just a little each day like letting a bit of air out of a balloon, lest I pop. We were amused by the idea that all of me wants to sink into the weight of this quiet place, and my pinot noir gives the part of me that's still running at high speed a chance to chill the heck out.  I felt forgiven for something I'm not even interested in judging myself for. I can hear the wasps chewing at the barn wall and I've got an hour and a half of daylight left to do nothing with.

the bakery

Long ago there was a bakery and a baker in a tiny town on the side of a volcano and the volcano was also an island in the middle of nowhere, or maybe not really nowhere since the ocean has no land but still must be a "where". The bakery was kind of a loud place even though it was small and the writer, even though she longed to write there, couldn't seem to harmonize her own creative vibration with the rest of the tourists and locals who came and went. The coffee really wasn't prepared very well and nothing was organic and she was surprised by this a little each time, reminded that she was in a land where doing whatever she had done before could produce such wildly unexpected and sometimes incomprehensible results.

But there were bright spots because on the days that she forgot not to write there, she could write about the people who were real, observing them just there at the next table, instead of writing about herself. They were tourists mostly, at any given time. Often wearing bathing suits even though they were three thousand feet up the mountain. They wore their suits under sarongs with sketchers sneakers and baseball caps. They wanted to know how to pronounce where they were, which the writer could empathize with. And they were always in twos and fours, looking a tiny bit shell shocked. There were the two men in the "more Aloha, less litter" tee shirts. One old and one young, the grey haired old man carrying out a giant piece of carrot cake (three layers!) with a look of anticipation that this writer only sees on the faces of old men and very young boys.

The locals stream in, all men, all in the somewhat grubby state that's the norm for this island. They must work outside, and start early in the morning because they came in for lunch at 10 or 11 and put away huge plates of food very quickly. What is the aesthetic here? Printed t-shirts and trucker caps and Locals. Southern hick meets the Red Hot Chili Peppers on a farm in the tropics. After over twenty months here this writer may finally be getting used to it a little, knowing that there will always be a division of vibration between her and all this, until that no longer even matters. And then everything will transform. Really the best thing for this writer's creativity might be the isolation that comes with not being in a coffee shop, no matter the lovely man this morning with a bottle of Bud and a pack of Newports in his sleeve who told her that his day was "very good, indeed" now that he'd seen her.

Even so, is there much difference between here and the park? Can the mystic push through even here? Oh, Los Angeles. Oh, Santa Fe. This writer misses you, and all the places between where things are bare and dusty and organic, where everyone knows that the food you eat is an offering to God in the Temple, where good coffee makes itself, where pride is taken in honest, and dishonest, work to the maybe millionth degree. But right this moment, the writer loves her isolation, even when that love feels hard and tears come when it's pushed on, which is often.This separateness forces a complete inward focus that is foreign, a surrender interrupted by reruns of Who's The Boss and The Golden Girls.

Right now it exists in order to look hard for all the ways that the inside of the writer births every bit of the surroundings. She is looking for the root of every material beauty and beloved she has known, looking for the roots inside herself because that's what this place in the middle of nowhere has revealed. It's all nowhere without her.

May 31, 2013

commitment

I am a writer, shouldn't I write? Something wise that I could begin to live out goes something like, 

"Most of the pain in your life is born inside of the failure to bring your light forward"

Every day I'll come here again. Whether I feel like it or not. And I'll write elsewhere, push out into the resistance. Writing isn't THE way to bring my light, but it's a way, and I need something. Mostly I stop myself from doing by telling myself I'm not good enough, I might feel it but I can't let myself believe it.

See you tomorrow.

human mandala

                           unknown

There is no better time on this Earth than now to go for what your heart calls to. It might not look like it based on some old criteria, and may not be provable by scientific method, but the energy of this world is in a torrential downpour of just the exact frequencies to take the gravity out of each of your leaps forward and into and out of - into a whole new territory of sovereign Selfhood. There is a flow of energy encouraging no more secrets, and another encouraging absolute surrender. Can you keep no secrets and allow your life to shuffle the cards for you into an unbeatable hand? Can you travel all the way in to your own experience with the surrender of a human that fully trusts that on the other 'side' is exactly the home you've been seeking? Can you even stand to be so great and beautiful? It's faith that creates the worthiness. It's going full steam ahead on the power of the desires and the wisdom of the heart that creates the results. It is divine alchemy and its hanging right above your head like an irresistible fruit and the consequences of eating it are dire. You might find the unity you've been aching for. You might find an extraordinary magic waiting for you. You might get results that change the way you see the world and that move you ever deeper into trust and surrender, deeper into the innocence of your own heart and the natural strength that blooms there. You are so worthy of all of this. Be very courageous and come home to all of you. I'll want to meet you wherever you are and have a party. Xx

love

                   maui, winter 2012

Love is not my emotion. Love is the ground that I stand on. Love allows you to be a full expression of yourself in my presence. My love encourages you to let go into fearless expression. Human emotions will shift all over the place forever in never ending waves and we will be forever somewhere new with each other. Love will make sure that we show up with eyes that can see the newness. 

long rain

I'm surprised at how long I've been gone.  I'm surprised at how hard it rains. I find myself longing for dry air and lighter land. I move in and out of belonging, only able to make my way by feel, watching for opportunity that I don't know how to recognize and searching for a push that every part of me aches for. There must be a reason to be alive. There must be a reason why I don't know what I'm capable of, a reason I've been so distant, a reason I believed all that I did. There must have been a good reason to hide so long and deep. All these major and minor notes wrapped together in an inverted chord. Oh God, I'm crawling with the energy of loss, afraid that no matter how bright I shine, I will never see the fulfillment of this dream. I invite you in my old friend doubt. I invite you to dig deep and sift through my bravado, to toss the tiny naked baby of my confidence into the cold exposure and prove to me that the freeze won't kill me. I don't have a who for who I am, I don't have a what for what I want, I can't make a reference point out of a paper tiger. I can only love. I have no other worldly skill. I hope that is ok. I'll just be here, bruising my bones against the wall of my life purpose, asking to be let in, demanding to hear in a place without sound. I will never ever give up. I'll only move closer. 

kokyangwuti

         Spiderwoman/Thought Woman. 

              Art by Jade Red Moon.

I have always dreamed of spiders. They are usually in my bed with me but sometimes they take a more active role in their medicine. Last night I dreamed of two, or maybe more. One was a beautiful blue-green iridescent little being that climbed up onto a dog's nose, over his left eye, and up into his head. The dog didn't mind at all. The other was a small black tarantula that I found sleeping under my pillow. They were both beautiful and I felt, as I often do in these spider dreams, a tender pointed attention on these beings in my dream state, as though I were listening, as though captivated. The tarantula was shy and when discovered, she began to leave. In the dream I had been sleeping outside on the ground, on a thin blanket with a pillow. Under the pillow were my usual gem stones and sleep things and much to my surprise, a black spider about the total size of my palm. As she walked off the blanket and onto the ground I followed her with my attention and if I remember correctly, I might have been asking her not to leave. Today, as I continue to sit very uncomfortably on the fence between a soul bone desire to run off into the wilds of my beloved Mojave or to stay here in Austin and continue to find a way to energetically harmonize with the collective of density (although here, it's not that strong) but it physically hurts to not be in raw, bare nature. Solitude is not solitude at all when communication extends outside the realm of people. There is, probably, income here and I decree that I will create my Truth, shine my Light, no matter where and no matter how absolutely blind I feel, and I will keep weaving words and heart songs until I have a web of Home that even I can see was woven by the Divine, and I can know that She is me. Taking care of myself as though I were a precious thing, because that is the truth of all of us, is what I am navigating. Sometimes I feel like the masculine must dominate, bringing in income so that there can be a home and food, with less regard to whether I am truly happy or filled with joy, because it's time to take care of the little family of me. I will keep asking the question "how can great abundance come through my joy?". My feminine heart wants to run free and wild through the desert without a single possession, with only me, God, guides, and my greatest lover, Nature. I live in the in-between and I try each moment to not strain here, even when I strain to try not to strain. Today it's Sunday. I've been in Austin for a week. I worked a gig for sxsw. I am taking the day off. Maybe tomorrow, too. I can do this, whatever it is, and I'll keep stepping aside until the trying becomes the total surrender I dream of, until I remember. 

the whole

The whole thing is a journey of self-love. Capital L, not an emotion, Love. Love is the consciousness that make the particles that make the entirety. 

You are the totality of all this and nothing can stop you. You've come so far, come further, touch your fingertips to mine. Everything appears within the embodied belief that not only are you good enough, but that you are God, and that inner dialogue is a river that leads to the service that serves you first. 

Lovely star children, you are first. 

shaman awakenings

              an extraordinary vision by  

            aquariansolarium, Instagram

I keep stretching my wings and testing for flight, notice me, I am nowhere but present here. This deep and steady hereness doesn't leave, it has seeped into the iron of my blood, I cannot leave this now and put myself into that later or that before. This. Now. The ecstasy of it is a joy that lifts my feathers as I open wider the conduit of love and whisper thank you for a fullness that has burst through the remains of an outdated dimension. Here in the all encompassing somatic presence of falling in love with the where that is right here, and letting my own inner universe spin new stars, the love that moves itself through my body is not an emotion. It is the substance of me. I am only marking a space for it, and only that, if you see me here. 

moon haus

Who is into the idea of a moon time garden lounge where we go to let our bodies do what they do each month? Where we can read, write, make and contemplate arts, have tea and fantastic raw chocolate and fresh pressed juices, and put our sweet bodies on the earth, tend to plants and tiny fauna, and reset. Let's build it in each of our lives. Let's support each other to create this cultivation of slow, sacred ritual and gently but firmly demand our schedules back, claiming the rhythms that are quite literally our birthright. 

full moon

     instagram photo by @moontomoon

    of an excerpt from The Year In Moons 

                  by Jenny Sherbie.

Wiggle. Stretch. Leave hibernation for the thrill of the bloom. This spring is blooming the writer, the teacher, the healer and I'm opening my light wide, shining, to the You who is already whole and in need of no writing, teaching, or healing because sharing light just begets more light. Things become clear from the inside out. Knowingness is the knowledge born from within. We are deep silence and skillful love, unconditional and unmeasured and very choosy. There is no need to strain to be heard or seen or known. Most of us will have to let more light in this weekend as we add an hour to our days. Might as well sunbathe our insides as well. 

training wheels off

My whole life I've been doing what others have suggested I do, or what they've told me I would do. My whole life has been made up of my trying to be what I was supposed to be. FUCK THAT.